


At ease, soldier!

by Angel-without-wings-sew (John_lockian), John_lockian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, HiatuStory August Challenge, Love Confessions, M/M, Military Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 17:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11856660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_lockian/pseuds/Angel-without-wings-sew, https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_lockian/pseuds/John_lockian
Summary: For years John and Sherlock have danced around the possibility of romance.But what happens when they have to adopt costumes for a case and John digs out his old army fatigues?





	At ease, soldier!

**Author's Note:**

> This has been written for Hiatustory August prompt 'Military Kink'.
> 
> Need to say a huge thank you to the amazing writer that is 'Mottlemoth' not only for her expertise as Beta but also for giving me a not so gentle push to get this finished. "Thankyou - Dear Moth...."
> 
>  
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments if you have read it..... as a new writer these things mean the world to me
> 
>  
> 
> ***********************************************

John smirked as he read the email from Sherlock.

 

_From: <thescienceofdeduction@gmail.com> To: <john.h.watson@gmail.com>_

_Subject: On the subject of fatigues._

_Dear John,_

_Be ready at 7pm for a case. You need to be in a costume. We are attending a costume party at Pen C University. I will update you when I pick you up._

_SH_

John sat back in his armchair, considering the instructions. Sherlock had left little direction as to the nature of the costume - so John could only presume it was 'anything goes'.

Going up to his room, he looked through the wardrobe - nothing. He supposed he could give Greg a ring, and ask him if he could have loan of a PC uniform - but then his eyes drifted to the box at the back of the wardrobe.

Lifting the box out almost reverently, John sighed. He hadn’t opened this box since he'd returned from Afghanistan. Inside were all of his belongings - his dog tags, and a replacement set of army fatigues that had been given to him at the hospital. His own had been ruined - bloodied, torn and subsequently cut from his damaged body by army medics at the field hospital.

His hands smoothed over the fabric, rough and hard wearing, but also comforting, as his mind wandered back to Afghanistan. Bullets flying; the sounds of catastrophic destruction, invading every part of his being. And the pain – oh God, the pain. It had been bad. Not straight away - adrenalin had taken care of that - but when the infection and subsequent sepsis had set in, there had been almost nothing but pain.

When John straightened up from where he'd been kneeling, he realised he'd pulled the fatigues out of the box. They were now lying in his lap. Heavy, and stiff with starch, the uniform seemed to call to him.

Without further ado, he stripped down to his pants and pulled on a beige t-shirt, followed by his uniform trousers, then the jacket. Snug - but well, they still fit. He stood, automatically striking the pose of an army captain in front of the mirror. He forced himself to stand at ease, and scrutinized the man looking back at him.

He nodded slowly. _Yes_ \- he could do this.

He turned slightly to examine his profile. His arse looked good in these. They were a bit tight, and hugged his thighs and arse rather closely. But it was definitely in a good way.

Yep - this would do nicely. John removed the uniform before turning to the bathroom. A long shower, and a quick bite to eat, were all he needed to be ready for whatever adventure Sherlock Holmes had in store.

 

_John – Just turning into Baker street. SH._

The text alert sounded just as John finished brushing his teeth. One quick last look in the mirror, and he strode out of the flat with purpose, every bit the soldier he was dressed as.

As John shut the door of his flat, a black cab pulled up to the curb. The door opened to reveal a well-dressed young man, his dark hair slicked and parted, a jumper just visible under the suit jacket.

"Sherlock?" John said. "You look... different." How could this man who wore a suit everyday look so different with a new hairstyle and a retro suit?

"Alan Turing. Erm... _Captain_ _Watson_ , I presume?" Sherlock reached out to formally shake John’s hand. As John looked up, he noticed that Sherlock's eyes were wide, and dark - his pupils dilated.

"'Alan Turing'? Okay…" John had noticed Sherlock's reaction; it made him feel a little uncomfortable. "Sherlock, is everything alright? Is this costume okay? I mean, you ah… you didn’t give me much info, and I didn’t have much time to hit the costume store. I can… change, if you want?"

"No, John… you look…" Sherlock let out a loud exhalation of breath. "I just - … I have always wondered what Captain John Watson looked like. You look... good." He turned his head slightly. His ears went pink as he realised the compliment might have been a little too friendly.

"Well... thanks, Sherlock. I must admit it’s a bit snug. I was worried it wouldn’t fit, but well… here I am."

"Indeed, John... here you are." Sherlock felt like he'd been struck by lightning. Every atom in his body seemed to be vibrating at an alarming rate, threatening to liquify him in an instant. John - John looked… gorgeous. All Sherlock could think of was standing to attention, _in more ways than one_ … and taking _orders_.

John was a little non-plussed by Sherlock’s reaction to his uniform. But he decided to steer the conversation away for now.

"Erm," he said, "I don’t want to seem rude, but... who the hell _is_ Alan Turing?"

" _Really,_ John? You don’t know who Alan Turing was? He was a genius! Turing was one of the best mathematicians who ever lived. He had a large part to play in breaking the Enigma code in the Second World War. He was unfortunately imprisoned for his sexuality, back in the day. He couldn’t cope and committed suicide. So, it seemed sensible that - given all the similarities - I should choose to attire myself as him tonight..."

"Okay, well… yeah, genius…. I can see all the similarities." John was still a little unimpressed, if truth be told.

"John. I am an expert in mathematics, chemistry, physics, and am well known for my code-breaking expertise. That, and the fact that I am also gay, means that Mr Turing and I have a great deal in common."

Sherlock’s expression dared John to disagree - but John simply stared, astonished by Sherlock’s sudden declaration.

"Oh," he said. "Okay… Sherlock? You know you've never actually told me that before? That you're gay?"

"My sexuality shouldn’t surprise you," Sherlock said, frowning. "Just because you're not comfortable with yours, doesn’t mean I am not with mine… it is but a small part of who I am."

"Yeah, but... you said... I mean, I asked you if you had a boyfriend... you said... you said you were married to your work – at Angelo’s, that night I had my first case with you."

"John, what _are_ you going on about? You asked me if I had a _girlfriend_. I said no. You asked me if I had a _boyfriend_. I said no. I told you I was married to my work. I never misled you."

"No… it's okay."

"I know it is. Another thing I believe we established in Angelo’s restaurant."

"Shit... sorry Sherlock, I think I’m just shocked. I can’t say I haven’t wondered. I mean... you're a good-looking bloke, and there doesn’t seem to have been anyone. I thought you were asexual… or just not interested. Then when you just blurt out that you're gay, it's like... wow. Okay. That came from nowhere."

"John, I haven’t just _become_ gay. You're aware that you have never asked me the question, aren't you?"

John found himself flustered.

There had been moments - too many to count now - where he and Sherlock had collapsed laughing in a heap, especially following a case. A moment where if Sherlock had been a woman, John would have leaned in for a kiss. But the one thing that stopped that, John suddenly realised, wasn’t Sherlock being a man - but that Sherlock supposedly wasn’t interested in men.

"So… John… is everything okay? Does this - … does this change things between us? I wouldn’t want it to affect our friendship."

"God," John said, "no! _No_. I just... I… I think I’m just shocked. It’s been like this big hidden secret for so long. You've never brought anyone home. Never seemed interested."

"Well, if I can cope with your bisexuality - and with you bringing your flock of inane females into our home, and listening to them screech, as you do whatever it is you do to them - then I think you can cope with me being gay and not bringing anyone home at all." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "As for interest? I _have_ been interested in people. It’s just never been reciprocated."

John’s heart plummeted. This was an odd night. Here they were, standing outside their home, the taxi waiting patiently as the fare trundled upwards minute by minute. One minute, everything had been fine - and now, not only was Sherlock _gay,_ but he was attracted to someone. John’s stomach had knotted.

"Who is he then, Sherlock?" he asked. "Why haven’t you made a move on him? Why hasn't _he_ made a move on you?"

Sherlock sighed.

"I think I would wait for hell to freeze over before he made a move on me. And, well… I suppose I just haven't been brave enough."

"Right… well, what’s he like? You're my best friend, Sherlock. I won’t have anyone messing you around."

Sherlock straightened up to his full height - he towered over John. He took a deep breath.

"He is beautiful," Sherlock said. "He is kind and patient... and yet, yes, I suppose he is also stroppy. He is probably the bravest person I know."

John’s heart flipped. He knew at once what Sherlock was trying to tell him. Sherlock’s eyes softened as the atmosphere started to crackle.

"Sherlock…" John managed. "Are you... saying that you're attracted to me?"

 _Oh God, don’t let me have jumped to the wrong conclusion... or I will look like such a fucking idiot.._.

Sherlock looked at John - looked _into_ him.

"John," he said. " _Captain…_ I think you need to work on your authority, and get this cab out of here. I think the case will wait."

John was unsure for all of a second.

_Oh, sod it._

"At ease, Sherlock..." he murmured, turning to the driver he dug out his wallet. He thanked the man for waiting and passed him a bundle of notes.

He then turned to Sherlock.

"You," he said, and stamped his foot. "Inside, now."

Sherlock jumped, grinned and raced to unlock the door.

As John followed Sherlock upstairs, his head was reeling.

_Okay, so… he likes the uniform… he likes a bit of authority… well, I can do orders..._

"So," John said, as they entered the bedroom. "You have a busy night ahead of you, private. Where shall we start?"

Sherlock smiled hesitatingly, saying nothing.

"On your feet, man," John said. "Come here. Take that coat off."

Sherlock stood, slipping his coat and scarf off quickly, allowing them to puddle without a care on the floor.

The air in the room was suddenly full of nervous energy and sexual tension. John looked Sherlock up and down, stopping at his groin, where an obvious erection was vying for attention against the expensive but narrow cut of the costume trousers.

"I see," John said. "So you've been disobedient? You've been having illicit thoughts, Sherlock?"

John allowed his voice to project, the way it had in the past - cutting new recruits to the wick with one sentence.

"Sorry, sir," Sherlock stuttered - a little unsure of where to take this new roleplay. "I can make amends?"

"Yes, I think you can…" John said. "Come here. Now, on your knees."

The order left no room for disobedience.

Breathing deeply, Sherlock sank to his knees in front of John.

He looked at John’s body, trying to keep his head steady. Kneeling brought him out at waist height - only a slight downward glance gave him a good view of John's erection, heaving at the combat trousers. His mind swam as hormones surged from his brain to cock, a circle only broken by John’s next order.

"Well, what are you waiting for, man? Undo my trousers and suck my cock."

Sherlock risked a quick glance up at John’s face. John’s eyes were straight forward, his voice steady, but a tiny smile played at the corner of his mouth. Sherlock also took in the faint nervous tremor in John’s legs as he stood to attention.

Sherlock reached up, his hands shaking gently.

"Yes, sir..."

Deftly he undid the belt, easing the buckle free but leaving the rest of the belt in place. He then turned his attention to the trouser fasteners, and within moments had access to John’s cock through his pants. Sherlock gasped as he saw the large bulge straining at the stretchy fabric.

"Oh - John…"

John couldn’t speak. He wanted to stay in character, but his heart was beating hard as he felt Sherlock's breath on his cock.

He put his hands on Sherlock’s head - bringing him closer.

"Suck me," he murmured.

Sherlock eased down the waistband of the pants, allowing John’s cock to spring free.

 _Lovely, John... you are lovely,_ he murmured in his head, as he freed the other man's thick cock.

He moved his head toward John’s groin, taking a deep breath before licking over the head of his cock, his warm tongue leaving a path of saliva glistening over the glans. He felt John’s hands tighten in his hair - there came a sharp, quick breath as they began on the path towards no return.

John tasted good - _so_ good. As he took John’s cock between his lips he began to thrust his mouth upon it gently, allowing John to hold his head in place while he fucked his mouth.

"Harder - Sherlock - _now…!_ "

Sherlock jumped slightly at the order - but his own cock stiffened in arousal as he took John further into his mouth, increasing his suction and thrusting hard.

"Oh… God, Sherlock, I can’t – _shit_ , I’m gonna come - ... take me out of your mouth - "

Sherlock forced his head down onto John's cock, pushing it harder past his gag reflex. As each spurt shot into his throat, he swallowed. John made an inhuman noise as he emptied his balls into Sherlock's mouth.

"Oh my _God_ ," he groaned. "So sexy - so beautiful - so… _mine…_ "

His knees buckled; he fell to the floor.

Sherlock caught him before he hit it with any force.

" _John_ \- ... that was… _unexpected_. Kiss me - please - "

Their mouths crushed together - tongues searching, tasting each other and John’s semen at the same time.

Then John pushed him away.

"Lay down," he ordered. "Get these trousers off. Now."

His post-orgasmic euphoria was taking the edge of his authority - it was impossible not to grin. Still, Sherlock grappled with his trousers and zipper, pushing them down past his hips, down his legs and kicking wildly to release himself from their bonds.

John looked down at the man he'd loved for so long - laying by his knees; pale, creamy legs going on forever; the thatch of thick curly black hair hiding the root of the most beautiful cock John had ever seen.

"Oh, Sherlock. You're gorgeous… tell me… do you want my mouth? Or hands?"

"Your hands." Sherlock's cock was already twitching like a gun being readied to fire. "I won't last long."

John spat into his hand.

"Sorry… needs must," he said - and caught Sherlock erection in his fist.

It had been a while for John - but his hand instinctively knew what to do. The long thrusts from tip to base became quicker in time with Sherlock's gasps and breaths.

"Sherlock, come for me… come for me…"

John's thumb rubbed over the head of Sherlock’s cock, smearing his precome with each thrust.

"You're gorgeous," John murmured. "I want to see you come… come _now._ "

The barked last work toppled Sherlock over the edge into a heady vortex of light and sensation. His body convulsed with orgasm - his come spilled out in short bursts over John's fist and his own shirt.

As Sherlock came down from that place, John held him - held him gently, as he would a soldier needing comfort. He wrapped his arms tightly into place and did not let go.

They sat on the floor in the waning light for some time, until the air became cool and they both began to shiver.

John then held out a hand to Sherlock.

"Come on," he said. "Help get me out of these fatigues... shower with me... then let me take you to bed."

Sherlock smiled, and took his hand.


End file.
